Page 87 of Off-Limits Daddy
He nodded, like that tracked.
Then his voice dropped. “You paid for that summer in Florence.”
My eyes snapped to his.
“You really thought I wouldn’t figure it out?” he asked. “Mom thought it was me. Ari thought it was her and me together. But I saw your face the night he FaceTimed us from that rooftop—sunburned, excited, rambling about frescoes. You looked... proud. And terrified.”
I looked away. The wall wasn’t much to focus on, but it was easier than meeting his eyes.
“It was his junior year,” I said softly. “That summer was a game-changer for him. He didn’t know how much he needed it. But I did. And I could help. So I did. Even if he never knew it was me.”
“Because you loved him.”
The words didn’t hang between us—they hit. Solid. Inarguable. Final.
I let out a breath, slow. “Yeah. I did.”
“You still do.”
I met his gaze again. There was no hiding anymore. My voice came out low, roughened by bruised ribs and truth. “Every damn day.”
Sage leaned back in the chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest. But his expression softened, just enough.
“You hung your whole heart on him. And you tried like hell to pretend it was just care. Just friendship.”
“I thought it was enough,” I admitted. “Being around. Showing up. Making sure he was okay, even if he never looked twice at me like that.”
“He did,” Sage said. “You were just too close to see it.”
I blinked, thrown for a second. Sage knew my boy and me so damn well.
Sage gave a small shrug. “You weren’t subtle, Reid. You’ve been his shadow, his anchor, his damn guard dog for years. I knew it wasn’t about friendship the day you drove six hours tobuy that specific brand of pastels because he said in passing they didn’t sell them near his college.”
My breath caught in my chest.
“He didn’t even remember saying it,” Sage added. “But you did.”
I looked down, throat tight. “You gonna tell me I crossed a line?”
His reply came slow, measured. “If I thought you were using him? Yeah. I’d have laid you out before he even looked your way.”
I braced for the hit.
But Sage’s voice changed—rough, warm beneath the weight of it.
“But that’s not what this is. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Like you hung the damn stars.”
I stared at him, blinking against the burn in my eyes.
“And you,” Sage said, pointing at me, “if I had to line up every man on earth and pick the one who’d treat him right—who’d love him with everything he’s got—it’d be you.”
He stood slowly, raked a hand through his hair. Paused at the foot of the bed.
“But if you ever hurt him,” he said, voice all gravel and steel beneath the brotherly love, “I’ll wreck your pretty face. You hear me?”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Let a grin tug at the corner of my mouth.
“Yeah,” I said. “I hear you.”
